


Mr Charming

by ThirdGenerationRockette



Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: Date Night, F/M, Filth, Post-Series, Smut, role play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-22 06:13:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13757991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThirdGenerationRockette/pseuds/ThirdGenerationRockette
Summary: She takes the final sip of her drink and looks up to see him coming through the door, unable to hold back her smile as his eyes connect instantly with hers. Biting her lip, she picks up the cocktail stick from her glass and slides the olive into her mouth, watching as he makes his way across the bar, taking in his freshly combed hair, charcoal suit, blue shirt open at the collar, a hint of a smile on his face.





	Mr Charming

She takes the final sip of her drink and looks up to see him coming through the door, unable to hold back her smile as his eyes connect instantly with hers. Biting her lip, she picks up the cocktail stick from her glass and slides the olive into her mouth, watching as he makes his way across the bar, taking in his freshly combed hair, charcoal suit, blue shirt open at the collar, a hint of a smile on his face. He slides onto the stool next to her and she turns slightly, pushing her hair back over her shoulder, stifling another smile at the look he gives her, his gaze drifting to her collarbone, to the deep neckline of her black dress, to the lace covering the bodice.

“Scotch on the rocks for me please, and a martini for the lady here,” he says to the bartender. 

“Rather presumptuous of you,” she says, pushing her empty glass away and resting her arms on the bar, mostly to resist the urge to touch him, knowing it’s way too early in their game for that. “But thank you.”

“You’re English?” His eyes roam across her face, lingering on her mouth for a beat longer than a stranger should.

“Not technically, no.” She shrugs, returning his gaze. “But I can understand why you might think so.”

“Intriguing." He raises his eyebrows, pausing before he speaks again. "So...at the risk of sounding like a sleaze with a cheesy pick up line, what’s a beautiful woman like you doing drinking alone on a Friday night?"

“I could ask the same of you…you’re a _very_ handsome guy, dressed well, clearly confident of his charms, yet here you are. All alone in a bar, just like me,” she says, leaning slightly closer, distracted for a second by the arrival of their drinks, but turning her attention instantly back to him. “It’s perfectly fine for men though, isn’t it? You could probably sit here and drink in peace all night without anyone trying to pick you up. Which would be entirely their loss, of course, but still, you see my point.”

“I do, and I’m not trying to pick you up,” he says, his voice dropping lower and sending a shiver through her. “Can’t a guy see a beautiful woman across the room and decide he might want to talk to her?”

“Well, he _can_ , I guess…” She takes a sip of her drink, watches as he does the same, the silence between them almost humming with anticipation. "But usually if the decision is made from across the room, it's based on the notion that the woman looks like someone the man would like to fuck, and only _then_ does he decide to talk to her."

"You sure as hell shoot straight from the hip, don't you?" He smirks and she returns it, he eyes drifting to his mouth, her brain thinking of what she might like him to do with it.

"I do." She nods, shrugging faintly. "Always have."

“I like that. Nothing sexier than a strong, confident woman...so what if I cut right to the chase and said I was trying to pick you up.” He reaches for his glass, his hand brushing hers, the hairs on her arms reacting instinctively. “What would you say?”

“I’d tell you I’m married, I have two kids, and I love my husband.” She runs her tongue slowly across her top lip, her gaze flicking down from his eyes to his mouth. “I _really_ love my husband.”

“Beautiful, honest, _and_ loyal. All I can say to that is your husband’s a fucking lucky guy.” He picks up his glass and takes a drink and she can’t help staring at his throat as he swallows and looks back at her. “For the record, I love my wife and kids too. My family is the best thing that’s ever happened to me, no question. I'm thankful every damn day."

There’s such a sweet sincerity in his words as he stares intently at her that she almost forgets the game they’re playing in her urge to throw her arms around him and kiss the hell out of him. A deep breath and a gulp of her martini gets her back on track, and she crosses her legs as she leans back on her stool, smiling when his gaze predictably shifts to her thighs.

“So if you’re not trying to pick me up…” Glancing quickly around them, she lowers her voice. “Do you think really it’s entirely appropriate to be looking at my thighs like you can’t wait to get your face between them?”

“I was actually admiring what you’re wearing,” he says, reaching forward and tracing the hem of her dress with his thumb, sliding his fingers under it, tickling her thighs. “You have _really_ great legs.”

“Oh, well…thank you,” she says, uncrossing her legs slowly, gasping faintly when she feels his fingers move higher under her dress. “You know what I think?”

“What’s that?” he asks, his eyes widening when she runs her foot slowly up his calf.

“I think you should tell me what made you walk over here and buy me a drink, and I think you should also tell me what you think we should do when we’ve finished these drinks.” She gestures to their half empty glasses without taking her eyes off his. “Do we shake hands, say goodnight and go home to our respective families, or…do we not?”

“I finished work and figured I’d have a quick drink, which I don't do much anymore now I have a wife and kids I can't wait to get home to. I came over here because you’re the most beautiful woman in this place, by a fucking _mile_ , and I had a sudden and uncontrollable urge to talk to you. I figured you'd be as smart and captivating as you were gorgeous, and I was right, of course,” he says confidently, pulling his fingers out from under her dress and running them through his hair. “As to what we do next, I’d like to take you to dinner, talk to you some more, I’d like to-“

“I don’t do this.” She stops him, biting her lip, her foot still pressed against his leg. “I just want you to know this isn’t me, this isn’t what I do. I wouldn't want you to think I spend my Friday nights sitting at bars alone, letting handsome men buy me drinks, I mean, I don’t-“

“I wasn’t thinking anything like that.” His hand cups her chin and he runs his thumb across her bottom lip. “Have dinner with me.”

Standing up, she finishes her drink, the final mouthful sliding down her throat with a pleasant burn. When she turns to pick up her purse, he’s watching her, his eyes hungry as they roam the length of her dress, and she doesn’t think it’s a hunger that will be satisfied by just dinner. She sure as hell hopes not.

“Alright,” she murmurs, throwing her jacket over her arm. “Dinner. Let’s go.”

*

They eat mostly in silence, sneaking glances at each other, and brushing hands across the table. Every time their eyes meet she gets closer to just grabbing him and dragging him out of the restaurant, out onto the street, into a cab, against a wall, anywhere, just somewhere they can be alone and she can get her hands on him, can run her lips all over him. It’s the third time they’ve done this, the role playing, and it still surprises her how much of a turn-on it is. It’s not like their sex life needs to be spiced up, far from it, she’s incredibly proud of how good that side of things still is, even with the hours they both work and two small children at home. What these evenings do is add a different layer to things, make her feel sexy, and in turn they seem to do the same for him, she loves the way he looks at her when they’re playing this game, like they’re meeting for the first time all over again. The conversations about picking up the dry cleaning, who's on school pick up, what's happening at work…all of it melts into the distance, and they’re just Will and Mackenzie for the night, nothing to think about but each other.

She turns down dessert, tells him she eats it very rarely, and definitely not when she’s wearing a cocktail dress as fitted as the one she’s wearing tonight, blushing when he tells her how sexy she looks in it. It’s clear he’s feeling the same urge as she is to get the hell out of the restaurant, but she knows the longer the anticipation, the sweeter the pay off, so she agrees to coffee, picking up the cup as soon as the waiter brings it, savouring the smell.

“Coffee, not tea?” He raises an eyebrow across the table. “Definitely not English.”

“Told you.” She smirks and tilts her head back slightly, pushing her hair over her shoulder, very aware of his eyes on her neck, of the flush moving up and colouring her cheeks. “Although I really shouldn’t drink it this late. I’m going to be wide awake all night…”

“Some smart guy should capitalise on that.” He runs a finger slowly down the back of her hand, his touch so feather light she can barely think straight. “It would be a damn shame for you to be wide awake all night with nothing to do but toss and turn and regret your after dinner coffee.”

“It would, you’re right.” She puts the coffee down and stands up, moving to stand beside him, her hand squeezing his shoulder as she bends to murmur in his ear. “I’m going to the bathroom…you should pay for dinner because we need to leave.”

“We…we do?” She hears the arousal in the way he stutters, and it makes her want him even more than she does already.

“Mmm-hmm, I want you to take me home,” she says, her lips brushing against his ear, a sigh falling from his lips. “I want you to see what I have on under this dress…and then you’re going to fuck me.”

She smiles as she stands up, not missing the darkness in his eyes, the look of pure longing he gives her as she turns to walk away, and she hopes he can’t see the faint tremble in her knees as she crosses the room.

*

It’s chilly when they step outside, the way late April sometimes can be when it isn't pretending to be summer, and she pulls her jacket around her, momentarily regretting opting for bare legs until she remembers how much easier it will make things later and her regret is instantly reversed. He steps towards the street but she takes his arm and pulls him back, moving the two of them around the corner and pushing him back against the wall. They have a perfectly lovely apartment fifteen blocks north yet here they are, on the corner of West 57th and 8th, her fingers in his hair, her tongue in his mouth, and his hands roaming across her back. It’s ridiculous in its absurdity, yet it’s somehow so unexpectedly hot that she can’t help herself. She shuts down a brief worry that someone will recognise them, him, and pushes her thigh in between his legs, pressing herself against him, moaning into his mouth when his hands tug roughly on her hair.

“Cab, Mac. We need a cab.” He’s the one who breaks first, and his forehead rests against hers, his breathing fast, uneven.

It’s the first time either one has spoken the other’s name all night. It ignites the heat already simmering deep inside her, and she grabs his hand, almost dragging him to the edge of the road, grinning when a cab screeches to a halt almost instantly.

“It’s the dress,” she says, smirking up at him. "Instant cabs at our disposal."

“It’s your legs,” he replies, and when he opens the car door and waits for her to climb in first, she can feel his eyes on her. “Yeah, it’s definitely your legs.”

She gives the driver the address and leans back, crossing her legs and sliding her hand across the seat, bringing it to rest beside his, deliberately not touching, biting back a grin when he curls his fingers into the leather. It’s good to know the slow burn of the evening has him in the same state as her, and she glances out of the window, willing the streets to pass by more quickly.

When they come to a stop outside their building, she snorts at how fast he hurls a pile of bills at the driver before he opens the door and pulls her with him. She steps in front of him as they reach their door, determined to get in ahead of him, feeling his hand slide around her waist as they move into the hallway. Throwing her purse onto the floor, her jacket too, she threads her fingers tightly through his and pulls him into the kitchen.

"Do you want something to drink?" She waves vaguely at the counter as she kicks off her shoes, her eyes on his as he shakes his head.

"You," he says, stepping closer and cupping her face in his hands. "I just want _you_ , I've wanted you since the minute I saw you sitting at that bar tonight."

He kisses her, his lips desperate against hers, his thumbs rubbing circles over her cheeks, his tongue sweeping across her top lip as she reaches up under his jacket, her hands grasping urgently at his shirt. She pulls him tighter to her, her fingers tugging his shirt from the waistband of his pants, and when she pushes herself against him and feels how hard he is already she deepens the kiss, moaning softly into his mouth.

He's the one who pulls away, and she watches as he shrugs out of his jacket and drapes it loosely over a kitchen chair. When he turns back to her, he smiles and pushes his hands into her hair before he dips his head and runs his tongue down her neck, sucking lightly on her skin where her neck meets her shoulder. She's aware that she's squirming under him, but she doesn't care, the feel of his lips on her after what feels like _hours_ of foreplay is everything she wanted. He moves lower, his mouth on her collarbone as his hands push her dress higher up her thighs.

"Take your dress off," he says without lifting his head, his words warm on her skin.

"You want me to strip for you in the kitchen?" she asks, giving him a coy look when he glances up at her. "I'm not saying I won't, I'm just clarifying."

"Well, I remember you saying you wanted me to see what was under the dress, so..." He steps back and watches her as she lifts her hair and turns around.

"Unzip me," she says, biting her lip when his hand touches her skin and he starts to slowly unzip her dress.

She feels him step back and she fights the urge to turn around, instead pulling the sleeves of her dress down onto her shoulders and sliding it slowly down her body, not missing his sharp intake of breath when she bends forward to step out of it completely. His hand moves to rest on the nape of her neck, his skin warm on hers as he pushes her hair aside and runs his fingers down her spine, stopping when he reaches midway down her back and slides his hand under the band of her bra.

"Turn around." His voice is low, but weighted with desire, and she feels her breathing quicken in response.

Turning, she reaches for him, her hands craving the familiar feel of him; his broad shoulders, his strong arms, his solid chest. His eyes lock onto hers and he watches her as she starts to unbutton his shirt, her fingers fumbling in their haste, not helped by the gentle strokes of his fingers moving down her arm as she stands in front of him. She regains control when she finally opens his last button and he throws off his shirt. Pushing her shoulders back slightly, she watches as his eyes drift to her chest and his hand reaches instinctively for the tiny red rose on the front of her bra, his finger slowly circling it. When his gaze flicks back to her face, his eyes are dark, his tongue resting against his top lip, and she feels an unmistakable heat spread across her cheeks.

"I like this," he says quietly, his finger giving the small red rose one last touch before his hand drifts down her stomach, brushes across her abdomen and settles on the matching panties. "And these...I like these too."

"Hmm, I thought you might." She smiles and immediately follows it with a gasp as he guides her back against the kitchen counter, the marble cold on her skin but the look in his eyes filled with a searing heat.

His hands move to her hips and she feels his thumbs tickling her skin in the instant before he dips his head and his tongue runs around her belly button, so slowly and so softly that she can only moan as she clutches the counter under her hands. Before she can attempt to think, he tightens his grip on her and manages, in one quick move, to hoist her up onto the counter, looking up at her with an urgent longing in his eyes. She feels the slight roughness of his fingertips against her thighs as he pulls her panties down her legs, his eyes never leaving her face, his breath hot on her skin.

"You were right." His tone is plain, simple, his voice low and sending a welcome warmth through her body. "In the bar earlier. I was thinking about getting my head between your thighs, about tasting you, about making you moan, about feeling you come under my tongue."

"Oh God..." She's almost breathless as she leans back onto her elbows, pushing something desperately out of her way, a fruit bowl maybe, she doesn't care. "All of that, Will...do all of that."

He looks up at her and smiles before dipping his head. She feels his mouth on her thigh, his lips sucking on her skin, his teeth scraping higher, hard enough that she knows she'll be left with a bruise, a tiny reminder of his touch hidden beneath her pencil skirt. He knows how much she loves it when he leaves his mark, somewhere the rest of the world won't see, like a secret that's theirs alone. His tongue moves over her skin, creeping slowly up her thigh, and she bites her lip as she remembers the look in his eyes in the bar tonight, the look that told her this was exactly what he wanted to do to her. She hears a chair scrape across the floor and marvels at how he somehow manages to pull up a seat to save his ever ageing knees without pulling his mouth from her thigh for a second. His hand grips onto her skin, parting her legs a little wider, and she feels a familiar reaction build within her, a wetness that coats his fingers as they move to press against her. Sometimes he barely has to touch her before she's wet and ready, desperate for him, and tonight feels like one of those times. Trailing his hand down across her abdomen to her hipbone, she moans as she feels her own sticky warmth on his fingertips.

He runs his tongue gently against her, slow strokes that somehow make her even wetter, his hot breath mingling with her own heat until she cries out and he starts to speed up, the rhythm of his tongue just right, as it always is. His fingers move from her hipbone across her stomach and lower, and she feels her muscles contracting under his touch, dancing beneath his fingertips as he curls them tenderly against her skin.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he says, surprising her, his gaze holding hers when she looks down at him.

"Do something for me?" A sudden and irrational yearning takes hold of her, a need for something so simple she almost feels stupid asking for it.

"Oh honey, I'm about to..." He smirks and his fingers slowly uncurl, moving lower until she stops him with her hand covering his and he looks up at her, a frown of faint confusion on his face.

"Not that...I mean, yeah, that. God, you're definitely going to need to finish what you started down there, but I want you to..." She pauses, again feeling silly, but knowing she can tell him anything without fear of judgement, so she lets out a long breath and goes on. "Say my name, Billy, please. I...I really love our date nights, you know that. And the role playing too. It's sexy and I like that it's different, I like seeing what other women must see when they see you, but when we get home I don't want to pretend I'm doing this with anyone else. I just want you. I-"

"Mackenzie, Mackenzie, Mackenzie..." He stands up and leans over her, his voice low and his eyes dark as he looks into hers. "When I walked into the bar, all I could think about was that the hottest woman in the place was my wife, who I get to take home tonight. Believe me, it's you I was thinking about, it's always you I'm thinking about, and-"

She stops him with a kiss, one hand on the back of his neck dragging his face down to hers, her other barely keeping her balance on the counter. Their lips meet in a frantic collision, her uncontrollable need to feel his mouth on hers completely overwhelming, and she pushes herself to sit up so she can slide both hands into his hair as she deepens the kiss. When she wraps her legs around his waist, she feels his hardness pushing against her and realises he's still wearing his pants, hoping as she starts to grind her wetness into his groin that this is his suit, and not borrowed from wardrobe.

"Take me to bed," she says, giggling when he sweeps her quickly off the counter, pushing the chair aside as his arms wrap tightly around her and they head for the bedroom.

"I married a hot, younger wife because I thought she'd have the stamina for counter sex," he says, smirking as they reach the bedroom and he puts her down on the bed.

"You married a hot, younger wife so she could birth your babies and look good on your arm at parties, honey," she replies, reaching for his pants and unzipping them quickly glancing up at him as she sits on the end of the bed. "A wife who, right now, will be more than satisfied with not having to keep quiet or lock the door before she lets her older but incredibly handsome and youthful husband work his magic on her."

"Magic, huh?" He raises an eyebrow and she pulls his pants slowly down his legs, waiting for him to step out of them before she slides her hand up his thigh and rests it on the obvious bulge in his shorts.

"Feels pretty magic to me." Her fingers starts to move, stroking the length of him through the cotton, biting her lip, feeling him harden and twitch against her hand. "Show me what you've got, McAvoy."

His shorts hit the floor faster than she thought possible and she wraps her hand around him before taking him in her mouth, her tongue swirling around the tip as her fingers run slowly down his length. She hears his breathing change and lifts her head slightly so she can look up at him, opening her mouth wider and taking him deeper. She loves the taste of him, the feel of him getting even harder in her mouth, and the sweet tang of his pre-cum on her tongue. His hand shifts to her shoulder and his fingers grip onto her as she starts to suck harder, keeping up the pressure until the groan he lets out tells her she really should stop now if she wants him inside her. And she does, she wants him inside her more than anything, she wants him to make her moan, loud and clear, wants to be able to cry out his name knowing there's no danger of waking the boys.

Giving one last swirl of her tongue around him, she pulls back and smiles up at him as she unclasps her bra and throws it to the floor, watching his eyes darken as she stands up. She takes his hand and turns him around, pushing him back until his legs hit the back of the bed and he sits down.

"Scoot up, Billy, I want to be on top," she says, biting back a grin when he obeys without hesitation and moves up the bed until he's half sitting up against the headboard.

She climbs onto the bed, straddling his thighs and leaning forward to kiss him, smiling against his lips when his hands move down her back and his fingers roam slowly over her skin before coming to rest on her ass, squeezing gently. Moving back slightly, she slides down his body, rubbing herself against him, her wetness coating his stomach, his abdomen, and she lets out a long, loud moan that fills the quiet room. When she feels him nudging hard at her entrance she reaches down and takes him in her hand, running her thumb over his swollen tip before inching back, her eyes on his face, watching his mouth open in a groan as he pushes slowly inside her.

"Holy shit, honey..." He breathes out in a long hiss, his eyes drifting down from her face when she pulls her shoulders back and thrusts her torso towards him.

Not for the first time she gives silent thanks that they know each other so well as his hands move from around her back to reach for her breasts, one hand palming the skin gently, the other rolling her nipple between his finger and thumb. She shifts again, feeling him slide deeper into her and she moans again when he tilts his hips to push even higher. Her eyes fall shut and she opts to keep them closed, a rush of excitement rushing through her at the sensation of him touching her without her seeing, not knowing where his hands, his mouth will land next. She feels his fingers leave her breast to trail down her side, his thumb running across her hipbone and grazing down her thigh.

He turns his hand over and the backs of his fingers stroke slowly up her leg, a moan escaping her, her stomach fluttering in anticipation of the direction his fingers are heading. When he proves her right and his thumb slides between her legs, she can't keep her eyes closed any longer, she needs to see his face as he starts to touch her. His thumb glides through her wetness and presses against her, his eyes not leaving hers as he begins to circle, slowly at first, speeding up when she instinctively starts to ride him harder, a steady moan falling from her lips.

He breathes her name and drops his gaze, his eyes fixing on her breasts. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and she knows what he's about to do the second before he leans forward to take her nipple into his mouth, sucking hard as his thumb keeps up its motion between her legs. Slowing down, she takes her rhythm down to a steady rocking, the scrape of his teeth across her skin telling her he it's working for him too. It feels like he's touching every part of her, from the inside out, and it sends a warmth right through her body, a gratitude for everything they have together, for the kind of intimacy she never felt with anyone before him.

"Kiss me." Her hands move into his hair and she tugs his head reluctantly from her breast, ignoring the curious look in his eyes when he raises his head.

She pulls him to her, exploring his face with her fingers, trailing tenderly across his cheekbones as she kisses him. His lips are soft against hers, his breath warm and sweet as he slides his tongue slowly into her mouth. His thumb changes direction suddenly and she feels herself squirming against him, pushing her hand into his hair, her fingers gripping the back of his head. Pulling her lips from his, she presses her mouth to the side of his neck, tightening her hold on him when he murmurs her name into her ear. With a final stroke of his fingers as he tilts his hips and pushes deeper inside her, she comes with his name tumbling urgently from her lips, loud and filled with the freedom of knowing there's no need to try and keep quiet.

"God, Will...so good." She sighs and lifts her head from his neck, squeezing her muscles tightly around him and giving him a slow, languid smile when he groans. "Flip me. I want you on top of me when you come."

He slides his arms around her, his hands skimming down her back, the soft touch of his fingers sending a shudder through her core. She feels him cup her ass to roll them both over, and she lets out a frustrated huff when he slips out of her, frustration that quickly recedes when he pushes her knees apart and slides back inside her in one hard, deep stroke. Raising her arms above her head, she bites her lip and watches as he takes the bait and threads his fingers through hers, holding her hands down hard onto the bed, looking into her eyes as she moans her approval. She loves his weight pressing down on her, the reminder of how big he is, his warmth covering her, making her feel loved and safe as he always has.

Lifting her legs, she wraps them around him, crossing her feet and pushing her heels against his lower back, her moan matching his as he thrusts harder and faster, seeking his release. His chest brushes her already hard nipples and she arches her spine, craving the sensation, the tickle of his soft hairs driving her almost wild. He tightens his fingers in hers and she squeezes his in return, looking up at him, watching as his expression changes to one she's familiar with, the one that says he's about to come. His usual light blue eyes darkened almost beyond recognition and blinking slowly at her, his breaths shallow, faster, and a flush across his cheekbones. Lifting her hips up to meet his, she uncrosses her feet and moves one leg higher up his back, changing the angle she's at enough for him to go as deep inside her as he can. He needs only a few more strokes, accompanied by her moans of encouragement, before he tips over the edge, groaning her name and clasping her hands more tightly as he empties himself into her.

His head tucks into the crook of her neck and she feels his tongue on her skin as he sighs against her. Freeing her hand from his, she moves it to the back of his neck, her fingers making their way into his hair, and her nails scratching slowly down his scalp. She loves these moments afterwards almost as much as the sex itself, being able to breathe him in, his skin against hers, the feeling of him still inside her keeping them pressed together as long as possible. Her hand settles on his back, her fingers stroking slowly over his shoulder blade as she listens to their breathing, the only sound in the room, in the whole apartment. He kisses her neck and lifts his head, his lips moving to cover hers in a soft, sweet kiss before he slides slowly out of her and rolls onto the pillow next to her, a satisfied smile on his face.

"I definitely picked the right woman to buy a martini for tonight," he says, trailing his fingers down her arm.

"Well, I _was_ the hottest skirt in the place apparently, and you're a smart guy..." She smiles at him and he moves his hand to her waist, his fingertips cool against her skin.

"No brainer." He inches his fingers higher, brushing the underside of her breast, stealing her breath for a second. "And no apparently about it, you were the most beautiful woman in that bar, hands down. You're usually the most beautiful in any room, so-"

"Usually?" She quirks an eyebrow, sighing when his hand moves higher, the backs of his fingers roaming over her breast, her skin puckering in response.

"Always," he says quickly, glancing down, his tongue running quickly across his top lip when he feels her nipple start to peak under his touch. "No question."

"Nice save," she says with a smirk, pushing herself closer to him, her foot tracing up his calf as he rolls the flat of his palm over her nipple, sending short, sharp waves running down through her body. "Mmm...that feels good."

"Feels pretty good to me too." He grins at her and moves his hand to cup her breast, pressing his thumb against her, softly circling her nipple. "God, I could stay in this bed and touch you like this forever."

"Then screw it, let's do it. Call Leona, tell her she can keep the kids..." she says, frowning when he pulls his thumb back, but realising when he slides it into his mouth that he's far from done.

"They'd get to live on pizza..." He pauses and rubs his thumb back over her nipple, watching her face as he does. "And ice cream."

"I know...they'd love it." She moans and covers his hand with hers, stilling it against her skin, unable to breathe through the waves of arousal his touch is inciting in her again. He seems to take it as a sign to pull his hand from under hers and slide it down her thigh to settle between her legs, and he seems unsurprised to find that she's wet again. "Billy..."

"Yeah?" He feigns an innocent look even though he knows damn well what he's doing, and she decides at that point that hell, if he wants to try and make her come again she'd be insane to put him off.

"Nothing." She smiles and slides her leg over his, locking her foot around him and sighing when he starts to move his middle finger slowly and tenderly against her. "You know, in six days we will have been married five years."

"I do know that," he murmurs, leaning forward and kissing her, rubbing his nose against hers and grinning before he pulls back.

"Do you know what the traditional gift for a fifth wedding anniversary is?" she asks, biting her lip as he presses two fingers against her and starts to draw slow, deliberate circles around her swollen nub. "And don't say diamonds...I know you think _every_ year means diamonds."

"Underwear?" He shrugs and his eyes drift to where she's slowly rolling her thumb over her nipple, in perfect tandem with the motion of his fingers. "Shoes? Flowers?"

"Wood," she says, closing her eyes briefly against the rising swell of heat beneath his fingers, finding him gazing at her when she opens them again.

"Really?" He raises his eyebrows suggestively and grins. "Shouldn't be a problem."

"I didn't think so." Her foot shifts higher up his leg and his fingers keep moving against her, bringing her closer with every stroke. He speeds up slightly and she moans but shakes her head. "Slow down again, it feels nice like that, it's like...like I'm about to glide over a waterfall in a yacht rather than hurtle over it in a barrel."

"Far be it from me to throw my wife over the falls in a barrel," he says as he shifts his focus back to rubbing his fingers slowly against her, his eyes fixed firmly on hers.

He's always looked at her like she was everything, like she's the only person in the room, like in one of those sentimental movie scenes where everything is rushing and the world is frantic, except for the two main characters who stand calmly together in the centre. She can admit to a certain level of sentimentality right now which, considering she's seconds away from coming again and his eyes are locked on hers with their customary intensity, seems fair. He smiles slowly and she moans as he pushes his fingers harder against her, feeling a slow ripple of pleasure run through her, exactly the yacht versus the barrel she was hoping for. His finger stops moving and she feels herself throbbing against him as he leans in to kiss her cheek, the tip of her nose, and when he reaches her lips she smiles softly under his touch.

"That was so good I think I might have to nominate you for a Peabody," she says as he pulls back and looks at her with a raised eyebrow.

"I'm pretty sure they don't give them for skills between the sheets," he says with a faint snort.

"Well, they really should." She rolls away and onto her back, tugging his hand with her and resting it on her stomach, covering it with her own. "Fuck it, I've got two, you can have one of mine."

"We could even give them a bed each if we're letting Leona keep the kids." He grins and she turns to face him.

"Hmm, it _is_ tempting..." She grins back at him, pausing for a second. "Now, call me old fashioned, but I quite like our kids."

"They _are_ pretty cute," he says. "And you did go to the trouble of pushing them out of you."

"I did, you're right," she says with a giggle. "Okay, we'll spare Leona this time, but you know what that means, don't you?"

"No idea." He shakes his head.

"It means they'll be back here in..." Lifting her hand, she looks at her watch. "About eight hours. Hopped up on sugar and loaded down with whatever she's bought for them this time."

"Shit, it's no wonder Henry loves his Yona," he says, grabbing her hand and squeezing. "We should get some sleep."

"Yeah, we should, but first I need to pee and wash my face." She sits up with a sigh and moves to the edge of the bed. "I put so much make up on for my bar room femme fatale act earlier it's going to take half an hour to scrub it off."

"Worth it though, right?" He catches her arm before she stands, looking closely into her face as she turns.

"Oh, totally," she says with a smile, standing and leaning down to kiss him. "You can pick me up anytime, Mr Charming."


End file.
